Holocaust
by Abagael
Summary: After a devastating loss at Myrkr, the Jedi and their allies are struggling to pick up the pieces, while the Yuuzhan Vong continue their campaign for galactic domination. **Sequel to 'Sacrifice'** NJO AU. Characters incl. Anakin, Tahiri, Luke, Mara, etc.
1. Sacrifice: A ReCap

For those of you who have never read 'Sacrifice', or those of you who have forgotten, here's a quick re-cap:

**Previously in **_**Sacrifice**_**...**

_The journey began with Sith Lord Jacen Solo, his Dark Apprentice Tahiri Veila at his side, attempting to put an end to the long-raging civil war between the Galactic Alliance and the Corellian insurgents._

_At first, things were going well for Solo and his soldiers; the rebels were falling, and victory seemed to be within his grasp. Unfortunately for him, he'd put his trust in the wrong person. Ben Skywalker had betrayed him, and waiting just beyond the borders of hyperspace was a trap even the mastery of a Sith Lord couldn't break._

_The Galactic Alliance was losing, and Tahiri's allegiance was wavering. In a desperate move, Jacen confronted his apprentice and his parents, killing them all in a fit of uncontrollable rage. Revolted by what he had done, Jacen clutched at the last of Tahiri's life, vowing to make things right and stop the evil transformation that had destroyed a galaxy._

_With that promise in mind, a cleansed Jacen Solo returned to the point his dark path had begun, taking a flow walk back to Myrkr, with an older Tahiri at his side once more. From this, they were able to transfer some of the older Tahiri's memories to her younger counterpart, leaving her to guide the young Jacen to a sacrifice he should have always made._

_Now knowing the outcome of the Myrkr mission, the young Tahiri pushed the strike team in a different direction, and subsequently took the amphistaff wound to the abdomen that was meant for her boyfriend, Anakin._

_The battle meld fell into disarray; the darkness was everywhere, and their trust in each other had long since evaporated. Tahiri's meddling with the mission had resulted in more deaths than before, and more unease than she'd ever thought possible._

_On top of everything else, Jacen Solo's darkside descent had started early, and Tahiri's trust in him crumbled until it was nonexistent. His choice already made up, Jacen continued on with his plan, plunging head on into the jaws of the voxyn queen and sacrificing himself for the survival of his siblings, his parents, and the galaxy._

_Jacen's sacrifice did not come without a price. His siblings, enraged with grief and loss, left the strike team behind to make a last ditch-effort to save his life. This rash decision sealed their fate, and together, Jaina and Anakin dove into a swarm of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, determined to go down fighting, just like their brother._

_The remaining members of the strike team, now in the control of the decoy leader, Ganner Rhysode, took the battered Tachyon Flier and left the Myrkr system, leaving behind perhaps the galaxy's greatest hope since Luke Skywalker himself._


	2. Prologue

**Prologue:**

_The little ship sailed through the vast nothingness of space, passing stars, planets, and great supernovas of burning white light. Crystalline luminescence glittered through the wide transparent viewport, casting speckles of tiny golden balls dancing across the control panel and cockpit._

The beauty of such a sight was lost on the handful of life forms aboard the battered vessel. They cared for only one thing; to look upon just thing… home. Never in their short existence had they ever missed something as much as they missed home: the familiarity of their surroundings, the smell of their soft pillow as it rested under their heads and the voices of their loved ones as they whispered in their ears.

It was almost too much for these young warriors to fathom; these Jedi, that had spent their entire lives fighting for a cause they knew little about, would, in a few short hours, be home, for the first time in what seemed like years. Normally, such joyous news would warrant a celebration, or at least, ecstatic cries; however, for these Jedi, they could do nothing but weep.

Not all of the brave souls who'd risked their lives on the planet Myrkr would be returning home like they'd wanted: Ulaha, Eryl, Krasov, Jovan and Bela were all gone, and more recently, Alema Ra, Jacen, Jaina and Anakin Solo. All lost; all casualties of a war that had spanned their lifetimes, and still raged on in their absence.

So that was why the survivors sat, huddled together on the cold durasteel floor, their spirits broken, and their thoughts focused on the soothing comforts of home. Thoughts of home, after all, were they only things keeping them all going following such a horrific ordeal.

After what seemed to them like an eternity, but had actually been little more than a day, the tiny freighter Tachyon Flier _touched down in docking bay of the Jedi Temple on Ossus. Random faces mixed with the familiar ran to meet them as they trudged down the lowered landing ramp, gasps of shock and anguish meeting the sight of their tattered robes and blood red skin._

The leader disembarked first, his handless arm wrapped in a loose tourniquet of ripped jumpsuit material. Following him were the Barabel and Wookiee, the latter of whom was holding a very delicate body with a short mop startling blonde. The rest of the motley crew came then; alien and human alike, all with the same vacant expression on their faces, the fire that usually resided in their soulful eyes long since extinguished.

It was an awful sight to behold; so young, yet so broken. To heal such ingrained wounds would take years, and unfortunately for these young Jedi, they had mere days to collect themselves, before they would once again be shipped off to fight in a war they no longer cared whether they won or lost.

The scars from that fateful mission to Myrkr would be with them forever, and the outcome of that final day - the day they had lost not just one, but four beautiful friends - would forever dominate their destiny.

Only time would tell which way this great loss would sway their futures. 


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: White Reality.**

The first thing she saw was white. The vivid hue was everywhere - a vast nothingness of stark light, stretching out before her in every direction.

In a single sickening moment, she thought she was dead. It wasn't a far-fetched notion. The last thing she remembered was drifting off into a deep sleep on Myrkr, and now she was here, stuck in the blinding white light. Where else could she be but in the depths of the netherworld?

Eager to find out more from her surroundings, she pushed in the direction she thought was _up_, and frowned. Every inch of her body was numb, and as she stared at the pads of her fingers, she realized her eyes were ever so slightly out of focus.

If this was what complete oneness with the Force felt like, then it was seriously overrated.

All of a sudden, she felt something – a tiny tickle in the back of her throat, overpowering her with the insatiable urge to cough. So she did, letting her lips part as they would in the realm of the living, and holding her chest against the strength of the shuddering movement.

The inside of her neck burnt with the quick expulsion of carbon and oxygen, and for the first time since opening her eyes to the bleakness of what looked to be the afterlife, she _really_ saw where she was.

She wasn't encased in an expanse of white light like she'd first thought, but was in fact sitting in a tiny room with a white ceiling and floor, enclosed by numerous panels of transparent window steel. The golden lights overhead reflected off the glossy material, giving the walls a semi-opaque appearance.

As she shifted her position, she noticed that she wasn't sitting, but rather _lying_; her body held firmly down by a heavy layer of white fabric. A bed. Judging by the aroma wafting through her flared nostrils, a bed in a med-bay.

Her body still too numb to twist against her constraints, the girl was forced to rely on the short darting of her vivid green eyes in order to take in the contents of the small enclosure. A nightstand sat off to one side, a single vase of wilted wildflowers standing on top. Next to the stand was a sheer curtain, hanging from a track bolted into the ceiling and tied in a bunch with a strand of chain.

On the opposite side to the stand and curtain was a low-lying sofa bed covered in an ugly tartan blanket, which was draped lazily over the shoulders of a young male dressed in tan and cream Jedi robes.

"Anakin?"

The man sat up instantly upon hearing her voice, his fair head whipping around to face her as the blanket fell to the floor, forgotten. As soon as his eyes met hers, his bleary expression vanished, revealing a smile almost as bright as the white of her sheets.

"Tahiri!" he exclaimed, leaping up from the sofa and rubbing at the stiff muscles in his cheeks. He was at her side in no time, clutching at one of her ice-cold hands as he continued to stare at her in awe. "How are you feeling?"

Her original guess had been wrong. This definitely _wasn't_ Anakin.

"So, I'm not dead then?" She'd planned on greeting him as ecstatically as he'd done her, but unfortunately, her mouth hadn't quite caught up with her brain, and had spewed the most ridiculous statement.

He looked at her quizzically for a moment, before his face once again cracked with the vibrancy of his grin. "Far from it, I'd say. Do you remember who I am?"

"Ganner," she breathed, slightly embarrassed by her reaction. "Sorry, I was just a little…"

"It's fine, there's no need to apologize," he told her, squeezing the hand that was clasped in his. "You've just come out of two months' worth of bacta, so a bit of disorientation is expected."

"Bacta?" Tahiri repeated. "For two months?"

Her brow creased as she struggled to process this information. It had been two months since the Myrkr mission, and she was only waking up from the healing of her injuries _now_?

"I know you must have a lot of questions," Ganner said, voicing her concerns as his worried gaze swept over her. "But it might be best if you give yourself some time to readjust to things first. Your muscles haven't worked for a long time, so you're going to be pretty stiff and sore for a while."

Tahiri knew he was right. The pain that was coursing through her languid body from the small pressure the older Jedi was putting on one hand was unbelievable, and she couldn't imagine how hard it would be to stand, or even lift a leg. At the same time, she didn't want to be kept in the dark about the outcome of the mission, or how she had gotten here in the first place, especially after she'd already waited two months for the news. In her reasoning, it was best to get everything out of the way as quickly as possible.

"I don't want to wait," she answered, wincing as she pried her fingers out of his grasp. "It's been two months, Ganner. Where are the others? Where's Anakin?"

The man rocked back on his heels and let out a long, slow breath. By that gesture alone, Tahiri knew the news was far from good.

"Just tell me, Ganner… please."

"The others have gone back," he said after a brief pause.

"Back? To Myrkr?"

"No, to the war."

"All of them?"

"All of the survivors, yes," Ganner replied. "Except for me, Tekli - who's been tending to your healing - and yourself, of course."

"Tekli stayed behind to heal me?"

"Yes. But I expect she'll be heading back to assist Cilghal on Mon Cal now that you're ok."

"And the others? Where _exactly_ are they?" Tahiri felt like she was just repeating herself with the question, but the vagueness of the man's response before had bothered her, and she needed clarification to put her mind at ease.

"They're all over, I expect. Tenel Ka went back to Hapes, and Tesar and Lowbacca went straight back to Twin Suns, right in the thick of it once more."

"And Anakin?"

Ganner hesitated at this, before saying, "Why don't you get some rest first? There's plenty of time to play catch up."

She knew he was only trying to save her the pain of hearing the truth, but a poor cover up like that was hardly the best thing he could have done, given the situation. Tahiri didn't need Ganner to explain things further now. His nervous pause, and the way he'd completely avoided the question told her more than she needed to know.

"He's dead, isn't he?" she said, her voice breaking.

"Tahiri…"

"No, don't! I need to know what happened, Ganner, so please don't tell me to rest again. I'm not going to be able to sleep at all until you tell me the truth, so you may as well do it now."

The man sighed, running a hand through his tousled blonde locks and backtracking a little. He collapsed onto the safety of the sofa cushions, taking a second to compose himself. When he lifted his head to look back into her eyes, a very distinct translucent drop of liquid was rolling off the end of his lashes.

_A tear._

Tahiri's heart constricted in her chest as soon as she saw the raw emotion that was now lining Ganner's face, and if she'd been able to raise her hand enough to clutch at the pain, she would have. "Oh, Anakin!" she moaned, before the other Jedi had even had a chance to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Tahiri…"

"You don't have to be sorry," she whispered back, dropping her gaze to the floor. "This is all on me."

The tears flowed freely from her emerald eyes as she fought to come to terms with just what she'd done. Jacen was dead – she knew without even asking that it were so – and now Anakin, too, her beloved, who she'd tried so hard to save. After everything she'd done, and everything his own brother had done, the young man had died anyway.

There could only be one reason for such a failure – she'd done something wrong. Or worse, she hadn't tried hard enough.

That thought sent a hard, quivering sob through her body, her shoulders shaking violently with the outpouring of her grief. She'd failed him, just like before, only this time it was much, much worse. This time, she'd lied to him, and he'd died thinking that she'd sabotaged everything.

He'd died thinking that she didn't care.

"How?" she asked, cringing at the heightened pitch of her voice. "How did he die?"

"Tahiri, I don't really think-"

"I need to know, Ganner! Tell me: how?"

"From the Vong-"

"_Yuuzhan_ Vong," she corrected automatically.

"Right; from the Yuuzhan Vong, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Tahiri scoffed, throwing her head back in a hoarse, mirthless laugh, and grimacing with the pain such a sharp movement aroused in her. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"It means I don't know how he died," he reiterated. "I can only guess."

This infuriated Tahiri more than it should have. She didn't blame Ganner in the slightest for anything, yet she was so angry with herself that she took it all out on him. It was a definite flaw in her personality, and one that she'd have to work on.

"You guess? How could you possibly know he was dead if you're only _guessing_ that the Yuuzhan Vong got him?"

"Because we left him behind, ok?" Ganner screamed, standing from his crouched position on the sofa and flinging his arms in the air. "_I_ left them behind – _both_ of them! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

She could tell the older man was emotionally drained; every breath was coming in short and sharp, and his brow was covered in tiny droplets of perspiration, despite the coolness of the medical ward. Seeing this should have stopped Tahiri from pursuing the subject further, but she was too shocked and angry to worry about how this was all affecting the former decoy leader.

"You left both of them behind?" she questioned, the meaning behind the man's last words finally sinking in fully. Her jaw dropped in utter disbelief. "You mean… Jaina…"

He simply nodded his reply, clearly too distraught to speak.

"Oh, my…" That was all she could muster at this point, completely floored by the news Ganner had given her. Whatever the worse case scenario was that she'd cooked up in her head prior to finding out the truth, it had been significantly less painful and horrible than what she'd just heard.

All three Solo children – Jaina, Jacen _and_ Anakin – had perished on the Myrkr mission. A mission which, when completed _without_ Tahiri's interference, had resulted in only one Solo death.

The blonde girl slunk down in the bed sheets, letting the back of her head slam roughly into the steel headboard.

What had she done?


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Degrees Of Regret. **

He was hyperventilating. His breath was coming in short and sharp, scraping against the back of his throat like a hot wind, burning all the way down to his rapidly expanding lungs. Stars had begun to appear at the edges of his vision, and he knew that if he didn't get a grip soon, he'd lose consciousness.

He let his watery gaze take in his tear-blurred surroundings; a low cot sat in one corner, round transparisteel viewport above, and on the opposite side where he was currently slumped on the ice-cold floor, a modest desk and padded stool. It was his living quarters, that much was clear straight away, but what wasn't so clear was how he'd gotten here from the safety of the medical ward. The man vaguely recalled sprinting blindly down innumerable corridors packed with faceless technicians and civilians, punching one clenched fist on the computer panel outside a large durasteel door, and then he'd wound up here, in the place he'd called home for the past two months.

Taking one long, racking breath, Ganner Rhysode threw his head in between his bent knees and clutched at the roots of his fair hair, tugging on the strands until he could feel the ends begin to snap. He'd never acted like this before in his life; he'd never felt so vulnerable and guilty in all his twenty years of existence, and it was both shocking and frightening.

For the first time since his return from Myrkr, Ganner had been forced - quite literally - to come to terms with the massive decision he'd had to make back on the harsh planet.

During his journey to Ossus and much of his stay on the Jedi world, he'd consoled himself with the fact that the onus of the decision to take the strike team and flee was all on Anakin. He was the official leader, after all, and even though he'd handed over the reigns to Ganner, he'd almost made the older man promise to leave him behind should things go awry.

When it had come time for the unfortunate choice to be made, Ganner hadn't given it a second thought, taking control of the strike team and blasting off the planet in the recovered vessel, _Tachyon Flier_, and leaving behind the two remaining Solo children for what he considered even now to have been certain death. They'd been charging head on into an ocean of angry warriors at the time: two powerful Jedi against thousands of Yuuzhan Vong. Being outnumbered five hundred to one made victory in such an overwhelming environment almost impossible, and both Anakin and Jaina would have known that going into the battle.

That thought alone made their sacrifice all the more selfless and beautiful, yet it did little to make Ganner feel less responsible. On the contrary, he actually felt _worse_ in knowing that, if it were even possible.

Ganner Rhysode was the reason the Solos were left behind on Myrkr. He was the reason they were dead; it was as simple as that. His decision, and his decision alone, had sealed their fates that day, and nothing, not even the protests of all the strike team members put together, could make him think any different.

As he lifted his head from the protection of his trembling legs, a choking sob escaped his lips before he was able to clamp his mouth shut. The look on Tahiri's face when he'd told her what he'd done, the image of sheer disbelief and raw pain he'd seen there had been his undoing. He'd heard his words just as devastatingly as the young blonde had, and his mind had registered the extreme amount of guilt he was feeling as of this moment, at around the same moment as Tahiri's mind had registered her complete loss.

Anakin Solo had been her boyfriend, her great love, and if Ganner's poor decision-making had not interfered on that fateful day two months earlier, she might have been planning a wedding now, or at least _thinking_ about planning one. The girl had worked so hard to keep the young boy safe on that mission, and had even gone as far as taking a deadly injury that was meant for him in order to solidify that safety. Regrettably, her risks had been pointless, and he'd died anyway.

_"You left both of them behind?" _

The memory of her accusatory tone from mere moments ago cut through his heart like a knife. He had to admit, he hadn't expected Tahiri to put the blame solely on him, especially after all they'd been through together on the mission; however, he couldn't really fault her for it. Before Tekli had put the girl in a healing trance, Anakin had only just dashed off after his sister, and there had been no indication that he wouldn't be returning, so it was only fair for her to hold culpable the one person who'd chosen to leave without them.

No, Ganner wasn't angry or even upset at how Tahiri felt about the situation, because quite frankly, he already thought it was all his fault; and not just that, either. He knew that he was responsible; he knew it deep within his heart. It didn't matter that the little blonde hadn't voiced her blame to him directly: the older Jedi had enough life experience to recognize a condemnatory expression when he saw one.

What the decoy leader didn't know, though, was that half way across the galaxy, another man was blaming himself for the earth-shattering outcome of the Myrkr mission. In some ways, the other man was even more broken spiritually than Ganner Rhysode.

And the worst part was, the other man was so disheartened that it grew more unlikely by the day that he would ever truly recover from such an emotional blow.

As Ganner laid his head against the coolness of the glossy floor below him, thoughts of glistening emerald eyes and ear-piercing screams filling his mind as he drifted into a restless sleep, the other man was just waking up from his own nightmares.

That other man was Luke Skywalker.

*******

The aging Jedi Grand Master hadn't needed to bother setting his alarm the night before. By the time the shrill beeping echoed around the modest bedchamber he shared with his wife, Mara Jade, he'd already been awake for close to four hours. He rolled over on his side and gave the small device an invisible tap with the force, instantly putting a stop to the noise it was emitting, and once again plunging the room in a deathly silence.

Mara opened one eye lazily as he swung his legs over the side of their bed, muttering something that sounded very much like "beauty sleep" to his ears. Luke gave her a swift kiss on the forehead on his way out of the room, brushing her tousled scarlet hair off her face to give him better access to her soft skin. He smiled as her brow creased his touch, a small moan escaping her lips. Typical Mara; even after all the horrors they'd seen together and managed to live through, she could still sleep like a log when needed.

Chuckling slightly despite the heavy ache in his heart, Luke snuck out of the open door, making the short trek across the carpeted hall to their kitchenette and switching on the caffinator automatically. It had become an almost routine for the Jedi Master to down an entire brew of caf before his day had really begun, mostly because the extra dose of caffeine in his bloodstream helped to keep him functioning through the daily stresses of the battle raging around them.

As he waited for the fresh jug of caf to steam, Luke sat on a nearby bar stool and ran his calloused hands through his matted blonde locks. The war had certainly taken its toll on the aging Jedi: he was unable to sleep these days, and his constant lethargy had started to affect his reflexes and judgement. He'd turned to meditation to try and calm his roaming mind, but to no avail, and the numerous visits he'd paid to the Jedi Healer, Cilghal, had made little difference, either. Not that he'd expected them to, anyway.

There was an electronic beep from the black device next to him, signalling that the steaming was now complete, and for a brief moment, Luke forgot about his ailments and poured the boiling black liquid into a large porcelain mug resting on the bench. The bitter stench of strong coffee filled his flared nostrils as he brought the warm rim of blue china to his lips, savouring the acrid taste as the fresh caf seared down his oesophagus, burning deep tracks in his tender throat muscles.

The pain he felt was almost soothing and he kicked himself mentally for using such primitive means to suppress his suffering. It had been nearly two months to the day since the success of the Jedi strike team's mission to Myrkr, two months since he'd single-handedly lost three of the most important things in his family's life. Of course, he blamed himself for the outcome of that fateful mission, and why wouldn't he? There was no one else to blame. He had been responsible for allowing the mission to go ahead in the first place, and had also been responsible for permitting the Solo children to partake in the dangerous task.

It was his fault the Solos were dead; Grand Jedi Master Luke Skywalker's fault that his twin sister's entire family had perished, while his was alive and well, hidden away at the secret base known only as The Maw. He took another long swig of his scorching caf, willing the pain of the liquid sliding down his throat to give him just five seconds of peace from the demons in his head. But there was no peace, not for him.

Luke knew that it was foolish of him to even think such thoughts. The very idea of wishing away his guilt and desolation over the mission was extremely selfish; this was his punishment for making such a grievous error in judgement that day, and he had to live with the repercussions of that mistake for the rest of his life. He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he placed his now empty mug back on the kitchen bench, and used the force to lift the caffinator to pour a second cup.

He hadn't had a descent night's sleep since news of the Solos' deaths had come from the survivors on Ossus, but he knew it was nothing to what his twin sister and brother-in-law, Han, were going through. The loss of one child would cause anyone an unimaginable amount of grief, but to lose all three, and all at once, was a horror Luke couldn't even begin to fathom.

The Jedi Master had tried to be there for Leia and Han, but the couple, now faced with a life much dimmer and lonelier than before, had fled to the safety and isolation of The Maw to deal with their agonizing loss, and had not been in contact with either Luke or his wife, Mara, since. Not that he could blame them, really. What could anyone possibly say to them that would make them feel any better about the excruciating pain and emptiness losing a child brought to a family? The media had had a field day with the trio of deaths, and by hiding out in the last outpost the allies had against their enemies, the Solos deftly avoided a barrage of prying, insensitive questioning.

With their absence from the spotlight, however, it had been left up to Luke, Mara, and the Solos' best friend, Lando Calrissian, to deal with the intense media pressures. As the Jedi Grand Master, Luke had done his best to be tactful with his responses, kindly telling anyone with a holo-cam and comm recorder that it was a very distressing time for his family, and could they please respect their privacy. Mara and Lando, on the other hand, had been far less forgiving to the unpleasant questions, and had on a number of occasions broken out in a string of creative words one would usually associate with a common smuggler.

Downing the second cup of hot black liquid in one mouthful, Luke switched on the holo-screen across the room with a flick of his hand and settled on the synthetic rug in the middle of the boarded floor with a disgruntled sigh. The polished voice of Cal Omas, newly appointed Chief of State, echoed around the high-ceilinged room as the aging Jedi positioned himself in a cross-legged meditative stance, closing his eyes in an attempt to rid his mind of its depressing thoughts.

"With sorrow for our countless dead, but with hope for the future…"

In a few hours' time, he would be sitting in the middle of a meeting with the new galactic leader and other members of the Jedi Council Luke had only recently constructed, and it wouldn't be prudent to dwell on such negative thoughts when he had a group of colleagues to lead.

"With sadness for the many who have fallen, but with confidence in the many who have taken their place…"

It would be the first ever gathering of this New Jedi Order he had created with Omas' help, and despite the fact that he was the original Jedi in a new breed of peace keepers, he couldn't stop the slightly nervous feeling that crept into his stomach at the prospect of leading such a large collection of individuals.

"With compassion for the millions of our dispossessed, with firmness in the rightness of our cause…"

A couple of months ago, the idea of becoming the official leader of the Jedi would have seemed a lot less daunting. He'd been in considerably higher spirits back then, and three of the greatest lights of his life had still been alive and fighting at his side. Now, Jaina, Jacen and Anakin were gone, and living without them seemed an impossible task, and one that the Jedi didn't even want to contemplate.

"…I accept the Senate's nomination to be Chief of State of the New Republic."

Reaching out with the force, Luke opened the hall cupboard a crack and called a pair of crisp, tan boots to his outstretched hands. If he was going to keep thinking such destructive thoughts, the least he could do was use the time to prepare for the nightmare that was to come. As he toyed with the rim of one knee-high boot, a hearty cheer sounded out from the holo-screen as the acceptance speech of Omas came to an end.

The politician had done a fine job, that was for sure, but even the promise of a new, pro-Jedi government couldn't lift Luke's mood, and at the rate he was going, nothing ever would again.


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: State of Unrest. **

The early morning sunlight was streaming into the bedchamber through a crack in the lavender blinds, and if this had been the only distraction for Mara Jade to deal with, she would have simply rolled over, pulled the covers above her head and gone back to sleep.

As it turned out, the invading light was the least of her problems: she could hear the holo-screen blaring away in the living room, random words and phrases from an interview with the new Chief of State filtering through to her ears from the half-open door. Louder still, but slightly muffled from the piercing voice of the journalist doing the interviewing, was an insistent banging that sounded like it was coming from somewhere near the front of the apartment.

Desperate to get at least another hour's sleep before her day had to start, Mara picked up her husband's pillow and wrapped it around her pounding skull, smothering her ears and blocking out most of the offending din. After ten minutes of the monotonous drone that was managing to seep through her clever defenses, the redhead decided that she couldn't take it anymore, kicking the covers off and throwing her partner's pillow against the wall in frustrated defeat.

Now very awake, she strode out of the room to confront the person responsible, a series of venomous reprimands floating to the tip of her tongue. While she understood part of what her husband had been going through the past two months, she was finding it more and more difficult to sympathize with him each time he shut her out. All she wanted to do was help him through his grief, but every time she tried to get close to him and talk about the loss they'd all suffered, he refused to look at her and changed the topic with a remark about the weather or something else just as juvenile.

What Luke kept forgetting was that he wasn't the only one struggling to come to terms with their massive loss. Mara herself had in no way gotten over the deaths of her two nephews and niece, either; the difference between her and her husband was that she was willing to broach the subject in an attempt to find some closure, and he was not. She knew things would be much easier for both of them if they could just learn to deal with their grief together, but with the way Luke had been acting lately, that didn't seem likely.

As Mara rounded the corner into the kitchenette, she spotted the object of her frustration and froze, all coherent thoughts drifting away with the shock of what was sitting in front of her, not three feet away. Luke was resting on the floor, his legs spread out at awkward angles, one boot hanging haphazardly on his left foot, the other clutched loosely in his hands. He was staring at it in wonder; his faraway gaze travelling down the length of it and back as it idly twirled over in his fingers.

Tears instantly welled in Mara's eyes as she took in the vacant look on her husband's face. He'd aged so much in the months following the Solo children's passing: the lines around his eyes and across his forehead had become surprisingly more pronounced, and his hair now held more grey strands than blonde. It was heartbreaking to watch someone you loved so dearly turn into a shell of their former self, but even after all the hard times they'd had since Myrkr, Mara had never seen Luke this soulless; this _empty_.

All of the anger she'd felt towards him before evaporated in much the same way as her thoughts had, and she was left with nothing but the inconceivable fear that she'd lost her husband for good. Luke was still staring at the boot like it was the galaxy's single-most greatest creation, and was so engrossed with what he was doing that he hadn't even noticed her presence yet.

Mara cleared her throat, a thick lump of sadness traveling down into the pit of her stomach and resting uncomfortably there with last night's supper. There was no reaction to the noise, but she hadn't expected one, not really.

Trying again, she croaked out a hoarse, "Luke?" Still nothing. The shoe continued to rotate on one raised arm as if it were on a spit, only any fire that had once resided in the figure doing the moving had long since been extinguished.

"Farm boy?" she asked hesitantly, taking a step forward and biting nervously on the nail of her index finger. If he heard her this time, he didn't acknowledge it. Mara was getting desperate now, her tears coming in long, hot streams down her face as she battled to keep her emotions in check and get the attention of her broken companion.

The incessant knocking she'd heard earlier in the bedchamber cut through her hapless attempts, causing the experienced Jedi to jump slightly as she was caught off-guard. It was so loud now, in fact, that she was more than a little surprised to see Luke still sitting there, gazing at his boot, as if he hadn't heard it at all.

Mara peeled her eyes away from his crouched form for just a moment, scanning the surrounding area for the source of the offending sound. Her first thought was the kitchen; it wouldn't be the first time that her husband had tried to make some unusual breakfast in the large micro-oven on the bench and forgotten about it. There was nothing there, however, but when she opened her force-awareness to the world just outside their apartment door, she found that they were not alone.

Forgetting her husband entirely, the redheaded woman made the short trek across the foyer to the front door, making sure to wipe away any residual tear marks on her cheeks in the process. As the vintage wood-paneled door swung on its hinges, she came face to face with someone she definitely hadn't expected to see so early in the morning – Kenth Hamner, good friend and newly appointed member of the Jedi Council.

Her moment of shock vanished almost as quickly as it had come, and she held out one hand in welcoming, taking hold of the one Kenth offered to her and giving it a good, firm shake. "Kenth, so wonderful to see you," she said, the words only sounding slightly forced to her ears.

"Mara Jade," he greeted, flashing her a tight grin.

She let her own fabricated smile fade away at Hamner's tense demeanor and silently led him into the wide entry hall, closing the door behind them. He stood gazing around at the ceiling for a few seconds, as if admiring the rustic décor, before once again fixing his attention on the Jedi Master.

"I apologize for disturbing you and Master Skywalker at such an early hour," he began, his eyes roaming around the room once more. "Ah… where is Master Skywalker?"

"Preparing for the meeting," Mara lied.

"Right." Kenth's gaze fell back on her once more, his expression hardening significantly.

"This isn't exactly a social call, is it, Kenth?"

"No, I'm afraid it's not," he replied. His hands were clasped respectfully behind his back, and his stiff posture revealed a man with a lot of more than the forth-coming council meeting on his mind. "I'm sorry," he said after a pause, "but would you mind fetching your husband? What I have to say is rather important."

A flicker of fear passed over Mara's features at the grave tone of Kenth's words, and a million different possibilities of what he could be here to say flashed through her consciousness: her son, Ben, was at the top of the list, followed closely by Leia and Han, hidden away at The Maw. If anything had happened to either one of them…

"Mara?" Kenth's voice cut through her panicked riviere.

"Sorry. Luke's in the living room," she told him, pointing in the general direction of where her husband was more than likely still sitting. "This way, please."

Together, they made their way across the carpeted entrance hall and through the kitchenette, stopping at the edge of the room where the aging Jedi Grand Master was now kneeling, no longer staring at his boot, but at the holo-screen in front of him. The interviews with Cal Omas and his associates were long gone, and in their place was a close-up shot of all three Solo children, a moving picture that looked like it had been taken mere weeks before the fateful Myrkr mission. They looked happy, happier than they had done in a very long time, with smiles so big they could have very easily lit up the entire business district of Coruscant.

In the background, the announcer was commenting on the tragic loss of the young warriors: _"Let us never forget the brilliant courage of the these Jedi, who perished on Myrkr in defence of a galaxy full of peace, who gave their lives so that others may live…"_

While Luke looked just as enthralled with the news report as he had done with his boots, he must have tuned his senses into the force, because his back stiffened noticeably under Mara and Kenth's approach.

"They're talking about having a memorial service for them," he said, his voice oddly distant despite the close proximity. "They want anyone who knew them well to turn up and give speeches; it will be broadcast across the holo-net so that all of the soldiers can see it and gain inspiration from their sacrifices."

He turned to face them then, his face clearly displaying an extreme amount of pain, but astoundingly, there were no tears. "It's going to be like some kind of sick, twisted drama – people and aliens from all over will be there, pretending that they knew Jaina, Jacen and Anakin, and all so that they can get their fifteen seconds of fame. It's disgusting!"

The Jedi Master's mouth puckered in an image of pure revulsion, becoming passive when he noticed the male presence standing next to his wife. "Kenth," he said, all of the anger and exhaustion that was in his voice moments ago disappearing. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early?"

"I have news from the battle front," his friend responded, looking uneasily between the Jedi Master and the holo-screen behind them. "But if you'd like a moment or two to compose…"

"Not necessary, I'm fine," Luke interjected mildly.

Mara raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in question but said nothing. It was obvious to her that her husband was anything but fine; however, she doubted bringing that up in front of Hamner was the best idea, given the present situation. She kept her mouth clamped firmly shut as she and Kenth took seats opposite Luke in the expansive living room, and was pleased to see her husband finally put an end to the holo-screen's distractive background noise, switching it off with a floating remote.

After a few seconds of edgy silence, Kenth made a point of coughing rather loudly into a clenched fist, before addressing Luke just as formally as he had earlier. "I'm afraid the reason I'm hear has nothing to do with good news," he began slowly, probably unwilling to jump straight into any explanations that could set the Jedi off on a tangent similar to the one he'd been on when the retired military man had entered.

"I'd already gathered that much from your force aura," Luke replied simply. "But then, when lately have we received _any _news that could be considered good?"

Kenth nodded sagely at this. "Right. To cut a long story short, we have reason to believe that several of the Jedi Knights who served in the Myrkr mission have deserted the New Republic and its fight against the Vong."

Mara couldn't help the harsh intake of breath that ripped through her lungs upon hearing such a statement; if any part of that was true, Luke and the rest of the Jedi were in for a rough meeting with the political factions of the New Jedi Council today. Regardless of Cal Omas' stance on the Jedi, having the desertion of a group of young Knights brought up as a topic at the very first gathering would do little to help their flailing popularity, and if any of the slightly _anti_-Jedi council members had any say in the matter, the point would be brought up swiftly.

"Deserted?" Mara heard Luke echo softly. "How can you be sure they've actually deserted anyone?"

Hamner cleared his throat nervously. "They took an entire legion of ground soldiers with them, a squadron of X-wings, and enough supplies to feed and equip a small army. That doesn't sound like they're coming back any time soon, does it?"

Luke said nothing, but Mara knew his lack of response meant he was thinking exactly what she was: Kenth had a point. Things certainly didn't look good right now, for the young Jedi missing, or for the council.

While her husband continued to ponder on the shocking news they'd just been fed, it suddenly occurred to Mara that they didn't know who exactly had left the battle front to do force-knows-what. Leaning forward in her chair, she cocked her fiery head in Kenth's direction and asked: "Whom are we talking about, precisely?"

It took the man a moment to answer; he'd had to pull out a small data pad and click a few tabs on it before he glanced back up at her, his expression somber. "Tesar Sebatyne, Lowbacca, Raynar Thul, Zekk, and Tenel Ka, as well as the remaining members of Twin Suns squadron, the 42nd legion, minus Captain Yassal, and Chiss pilot Jagged Fel."

The last name on that list piqued Mara's interest more than any of the others. "Jag?" she gasped.

"That is correct, Master Skywalker."

Jagged Fel had been a close friend to her niece, Jaina, before the devastating end to the Myrkr mission, and the young man had taken her death just like any other blow in the war; he'd used it to fuel his thirst for vengeance, and had jumped straight back into the hot seat, blasting the aliens out of the sky faster than you could say sabacc. Why he would suddenly run off with a group of her former associates, Mara didn't know – but she had a fair idea.

"Does Omas know about any of this?" Luke supplied, before she'd even had a chance to formulate the appropriate response to Kenth's last comment.

"He knew before I did."

Those last words hung in the space between them all like a dark cloud, tainting the Jedi and everything they stood for. To Mara, the whole situation was like a slap in the face, stinging her soul beyond belief and tearing at her heart as a voxyn would its dinner.

She couldn't for the life of her think what must have been going through those reckless Jedi minds when they'd decided to abandon ship, but even if she could, she seriously doubted whether she would have understood. Leaving your comrades behind at their most desperate hour was not something a rational warrior would have done, and it was precisely moments like this where a Jedi council would come in handy. The young Knights needed stability and leadership, and right now, they weren't getting that from anywhere, or anyone. Hopefully, Luke and his new council would change all that.

"It is, indeed, distressing news, Kenth." Her husband spoke calmly and concisely as he rose from his chair, folding down the lapels of his robes self-consciously and nodding in respect to their guest.

Though Luke didn't ask him to leave, Kenth had been in politics long enough to know a good dismissal when he saw one, so the aging man nodded back to both Skywalkers and took Luke's hand in his.

"I will leave you alone with you thoughts, Master Skywalker," he said politely, clasping down firmly for a few seconds, before letting go just as quickly. He turned back to Mara then, gave a curt nod and addressed her as "Master Skywalker," and headed in the direction of the entryway.

Mara made to follow him, but he stopped her precipitate movement with a wave of one weathered hand. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mara Jade; I can see myself out. You two have a lot to discuss."

The front door had scarcely clicked shut behind the man when Luke pulled his micro communicator off a belt loop, switching it on with a tap of his thumb and speaking into it in low, barely audible tones. Mara stretched out in the force to try and catch some of what her husband was saying, but by the time she'd managed to lock onto his words, he was re-attaching the electronic device to its place on his waist. He looked grim.

"Farm boy, are you going to tell me what the kriff all that was about?"

He smiled thinly at the way her arms crossed automatically over her chest as she said this; the first real smile, however pained, that she had seen on his face for weeks.

"I just spoke with Wedge," he said, "Ganner Rhysode was due to return to his commission as soon as Tahiri Veila was healed, but no one's heard from him in days."

"But Ganner's name wasn't mentioned on the…" she began, her words trailing off as her mind caught up with her mouth. "You said that Ganner hasn't come back to the battle yet, and no one's heard from him since he called in to inform Cilghal of Tahiri's condition… Ganner goes AWOL, and all of a sudden, so do a group of Jedi that were under his command on Myrkr…"

Mara's emerald eyes shone with recognition. "You think Ganner planned this, don't you?"

Luke shook his head in the affirmative. "If he hasn't come back and he's missing from Ossus, it doesn't look good."

Her husband started to pace around the room, picking up cushions and pieces of furniture surreptitiously as if he expected to find some kind of answer hidden away in the crooks of their living room. Meanwhile, Mara's brain was working overtime, filtering through everything she'd heard this morning and trying to locate a logical explanation for it all; something that would clear the Jedi of any wrong-doing. The last thing any of them needed right now was to have Cal Omas and the new government prosecuting the Jedi for treason, and slandering their already stained name for failing to keep their own in check.

One piece of information didn't quite fit with the others as she flipped through them all, and with furrowed brows, she asked, "Wait a minute… how does Wedge know that Ganner's not on Ossus?"

Luke stopped his furtive searching to stare at her with smoky blue eyes. "He doesn't, that was an assumption of mine, and boy do I hope I'm wrong." Picking up a stray datapad that had been wedged in between two armchairs, he added: "I need you to go to Saba now and inform her that I may be a little late to this morning's meeting."

"And where are you going that's so important you might miss the council meeting, Skywalker?" she inquired testily.

"I need to pay a visit to Cilghal," he replied, grabbing his dark brown traveling cloak from the edge of the bench. "I need to speak with Tahiri."


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Dig a Grave, Dig it Deep.**

When Saba Sebatyne had slunk in and announced that Master Skywalker would be slightly late to the meeting, no one had expected him to be _this _late. Precisely forty-five minutes after the very first Jedi Council session had been scheduled to begin, the Grand Master rushed in through the large brass and ivory doors, his tan and cream robes resting haphazardly on his body and his graying hair standing on end.

He looked a mess, Kyp Durron noted with a slight shock, and if the disruption in the Force was anything to go by, he was even more of a mess on the inside than he was on the outside. That thought alone was more bothersome than anything he'd heard that morning. The rogue Jedi might not agree with most of the man's policies, but to see the hero of the Rebellion looking so defeated was not something he'd ever expected to see. It was certainly not something he'd ever wished on the leader.

Across the wide rectangular table, Cal Omas regarded Luke's late arrival with narrowed eyes. The new Chief of State had bustled into the meeting with his non-Jedi council members – Dif Scaur, Senators Triebakk and Ta'laam Ranth, Releqy A'Kla and Sien Sovv – launching straight into a full-on verbal attack on the Jedi. He hadn't even bothered waiting for Master Skywalker to begin the proceedings; he'd simply fired off question after question at the seated Knights and Masters, clearly seeking answers as to why a group of _their own_, as he so eloquently put it, would abandon the fight.

Throughout the grilling, Kyp had remained relatively silent, taking the tight-lipped approach to political interrogation. That was what it was, after all: a politician looking for the right person to lay blame for what had transpired aboard Admiral Kre'fey's vessel. It couldn't possibly be that the Jedi in question had acted of their _own _accord, and not on the orders of one or more Jedi Masters currently residing in the meeting chamber. A number of times already, Kyp had had the distinct impression that Omas looked to blame _him _for the desertion; obviously deciding that his past wrongs warranted being lumped with the responsibility of keeping tabs on a group of misguided, broken kids.

Now, it seemed, Omas had turned his attention (and blame) on the most evident choice in the whole debacle: Luke Skywalker. As the Grand Master seated himself opposite his political counterpart, Kyp thought he saw the smallest flicker of fear pass over Luke's face, but before he could be sure, any indication of it disappeared in the void of the man's nonchalance.

"Master Skywalker," Cal Omas greeted tersely. "I was beginning to wonder when you would decide to grace us with your presence."

Kyp gritted his teeth at the man's insolence, his knuckles clenching painfully with the effort it took not to shoot back the retort that had been itching the end of his tongue since the meeting had started.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Cal," Luke replied. Though his tone was even and light, Kyp knew that if _he'd_ picked up on the politician's snippy undertone, there was no way Luke could have missed it. The easiest explanation was that the man was simply doing his best to ignore it.

"I had hoped to be here earlier," the Grand Master continued, "But I had pressing matters elsewhere that I'm afraid had to be dealt with before I could join you all."

"Prey tell, what might these _pressing matters_ be, Master Skywalker?" The question had come from Kyp's right: Intelligence Director Dif Scaur, sitting in all his military stiffness. He'd irked Kyp from the moment he'd marched through the double doors, and every time he opened his mouth, only managed to further incense him.

Luke swiveled in his chair so that he was now facing Scaur and answered him in much the same manner he'd answered the Chief of State. "I was speaking with Tahiri Veila about the unfortunate situation we're currently in, hoping to find some answers to the questions you would all no doubt have for me when I arrived."

"So you've been made aware of your Jedi's betrayal then?" It was Omas who spoke this time. Clearly, they were using the same tactic as they'd done before the Grand Master had arrived - letting off enquiries in quick succession, in the hope of unsettling their opponent.

"I was informed that a number of young Padawans and Knights had temporarily gone missing from the battlefront, yes."

"Oh yes, _temporarily missing_," Scaur remarked snidely. "That sounds so much better than the actual truth of the matter, doesn't it?"

"Dif," Omas interjected in mild warning, before Kyp or any of the other Jedi had the chance to protest. When his associate was back to leaning in his chair with his mouth clamped firmly shut, the Chief of State addressed Master Skywalker once more. "Am I correct in saying your conversation with Ms. Veila was fruitful, then?"

Kyp watched the leader's expression very closely; taking note of the small sigh that escaped his lips, and the unhealthy creases adorning his blue eyes. "It was… somewhat informative," he said.

"How so?" Cilghal asked. The Mon Calamarian Healer had arrived shortly before Luke, correlating Saba's story and informing the Council that Master Skywalker had indeed gone to visit her this morning, and was still speaking with Padawan Healer, Tekli, when she'd left him.

"She was able to clear up a few assumptions of mine, but mostly confirmed that Ganner Rhysode is indeed missing from Ossus as I'd first feared."

This response was met with shocked silence, from everyone bar Kyp himself. Ganner Rhysode was the oldest of the Jedi from the Myrkr mission, and while he was prided amongst his peers for his keen intellect and thirst for knowledge, Kyp knew that deep inside the young man resided many a trait not dissimilar to him. For that reason alone, it wasn't difficult for Master Durron to grasp the concept that perhaps Ganner had been behind the desertion, and had orchestrated it some weeks ago from his Ossus sanctuary.

The others, however, weren't taking to the news as easily as Kyp. Kenth Hamner sat next to Dif Scaur, too stunned to speak, while Jedi Knight Tresina Lobi, who was directly opposite the former military man, was shaking her head sharply. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe it," she said resolutely.

"Don't or _can't_?" Ta'laam Ranth put forward, his scarlet eyes shining malevolently in Tresina's general vicinity. The bulky Chev's long snout curled in annoyance at this, but she said nothing in reply, which was probably for the best, Kyp surmised. The last thing Luke or any of them needed right now was a good, old-fashioned fist fight in the middle of the Council meeting, even though Kyp would like nothing better than to wipe the smug smirk off Scaur's face, or sock one to the Chief of State.

"I know it's hard to believe," Master Skywalker said passively to the entire assembly. "And trust me, I myself had a hard time grasping the fact that Ganner could have organized something like this, but the truth is, all the evidence points in his direction. Tahiri hasn't seen him since she woke from her bacta-induced coma three days ago; neither has Tekli."

Luke was right – things didn't look good for Ganner. The young Jedi had practically dug his own grave; just one glance at the conspiring politicians and military agents scattered around the conference table told Kyp all he needed to know. They were out for blood, each and every one of them. The New Republic were losing this war, and having a handful of your best soldiers up and leave the fight didn't look good to the civilians whose families were dying out there on the front line. They needed to set and example, to send a message to the rest of their allies that betrayal of any kind would not be tolerated.

It looked like Ganner Rhysode would be the one to take the fall this time.

Kenth Hamner broke out of his shocked state long enough to offer some support for the missing man. "How do you know Ganner had something to do with this? His name wasn't mentioned on the manifest I received this morning from Kre'fey."

Kyp Durron's lips upturned in the smallest of smirks. At least he now knew who'd given Master Skywalker the heads up this morning. He suspected others in the room had come to similar conclusions from the man's words; Cal Omas, in particular, flashed him an exceptionally nasty grin.

"I spoke with Wedge this morning, also," Luke answered him. "He said Ganner hadn't turned up to his post as promised. His ETA to the base was two days ago. No one has heard from him."

Kenth's expression was grim as he nodded in reluctant acceptance.

There was a faint possibility, in Kyp's mind, that this was all a coincidence. The fact that Ganner hadn't arrived at his post yet didn't _mean _he was part of some military coup, it just meant he might not have left Ossus. He'd said two months ago that he wouldn't rejoin the battle until he was sure Tahiri was ok. Everyone had just assumed that meant he'd return when she woke, but perhaps he'd decided to stay on until _she _was ready to move on, as well.

Then again, neither Tahiri nor Tekli had seen him in days, and though that didn't necessarily mean he'd left the planet, it didn't give him the alibi he so desperately needed at this point, either.

"It makez senze," Saba Sebatyne hissed from one corner.

"What makes sense?" Hamner queried.

"Ganner… the Jedi… all of it," she rasped back. "Do you not zee the connection az thiz one doez, Kenth?"

"They're not abandoning anyone!""Tresina announced from her seat in astonishment, as if this specific scenario had only just occurred to her through the Barabel's prompting. "They're on a rescue mission!"

The table erupted in a frenzy of murmurings, the reptilian Jedi who'd kick-started it all hissing in amusement at them, her long, forked tongue tasting the static crackle of excitement in the air and revelling in it. Kyp was sitting forward on his chair, his chin resting in the crook of his clasped hands, surveying the action with a meticulous gaze. Luke had already come to this deduction earlier, just as he had done; that much was clear from the knowing glint in his ice blue eyes, but from the way the others were acting, they'd obviously not even entered the Solos in the equation.

"You've been awfully quiet, Master Durron. Tell me, what do you make of all this?" Cal Omas' smooth voice cut across the din effortlessly, startling Kyp out of the reverie he'd slipped into.

It was true: Kyp had barely said two words the entire time, and he'd been oddly silent ever since Luke had entered. Part of the reason for his lack of input had to do with his lack of constructive things to say. Leia had once told him (in reference to his dealings with her brother) that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

To say he'd been abiding by that principle would be an understatement, because, truth be told, her words of wisdom hadn't even crossed his mind until just now; but he had wanted to keep a somewhat low profile and at least attempt to refrain from uttering something that could land him or the collective group of Jedi in hot water. He might be known for his reckless, hotshot tendencies and lack of respect for authority figures, but he'd matured more than he cared to admit over the years, and after all the trouble he'd caused during the course of his career, he felt the indescribable urge to prove himself.

Then there was the part of him that still couldn't understand why Luke Skywalker had named him as a member of the Jedi Council in the first place. He had been more than a little dazed when the man had informed him of his decision, and though he'd been pleased and mildly humbled by the offer, he couldn't help but think the Grand Master slightly insane.

Those thoughts were definitely at the forefront of his mind now, as he opened his mouth to respond to the Chief of State's comment. Kyp winced inwardly before he'd even spoken any words, knowing that Luke would be doing the exact same thing in a few moments' time. In fact, he'd probably be regretting his choice to place him on the Council by the time Kyp was through!

"You want my opinion?" he began, giving Omas ample opportunity to save himself from the verbal lashing he had coming. Sadly, the politician declined the lifeline offered to him with two small words: "I do."

_Very well then_, Kyp thought, leaning back in a more comfortable position and hooking his hands loosely behind the back of his dark mop.

"I think it's blatantly obvious that the Jedi are in the process of staging a rescue mission. Whether or not Ganner Rhysode is a part of it remains to be seen."

When Dif Scaur made to interrupt with his sharp throat clearing, Kyp shot him an acidic glare and continued in a booming voice. "Just because the man's been on the quiet side lately doesn't mean you have a right to condemn him. Let's not crucify anyone until we have all the facts, ok?"

Scaur glared back with his deep-set eyes and mumbled something no doubt derogatory under his breath, but was silenced again by Omas' stern warning. "Do go on, Master Durron. It is important that we hear the opinion of everyone before we make an informed decision."

It was a lie; Kyp didn't need the Force to tell him that the Chief of State was just toying with him, but he ploughed on, regardless. Omas had asked for his opinion, and he was going to get it, whether he liked what he heard or not.

"Personally, I think the young Jedi did the right thing in going. If they believe Jaina and Anakin are still alive enough to go after them, then it's to all of our advantages that they use any resources necessary to get them back in one piece."

"So, you're saying you agree with their decision?" Releqy A'Kla piped up. She was another who had remained relatively silent throughout the proceedings of the day, and even now as she spoke, her tone was free of the dubious disdain held by the other Senators. Because of this, Kyp gave her more respect when he replied than he would if it were Dif Scaur or Cal Omas who'd posed the question.

"It probably would have been prudent to inform someone of their plans before sneaking off halfway across the galaxy with a stack of supplies and manpower, but then again, if they'd told someone, they would have been stopped." He cleared his throat and fixed the young Senator with a hard, even stare. "So yes, I do agree with their decision."

Releqy nodded in thanks for his honesty, the artificial air from the overheard ducts sending sporadic ripples flowing through her tufts of golden fur with the movement. Though she didn't agree with him, or the Jedi's decision, at least she wasn't spouting anti-Jedi sentiments like her political counterparts. Not yet, anyway.

"Of _course_ Jedi Master Durron agrees with the betrayal," Scaur sneered from across the expanse of ebony wood. "We shouldn't be surprised, really. After all, it sounds like something he'd do _himself_, given his background."

His background: meaning, more than likely, his actions at Cardia. He'd been wondering when they were going to bring that up, though he was vaguely surprised they'd left it this long to mention it. He'd half-expected it to be thrown at him during the forty minutes or so the name 'Jedi' had been slandered before Luke's arrival.

"That will be enough, thank you, Dif."

Kyp's head swiveled around to within an inch of its life as he struggled to catch a glimpse of the one person he'd never dreamt would stick up for him. Luke Skywalker stood at the base of his seat opposite the Chief of State, his expression calm and devoid of emotion, but the Force around him crackling with uncontrolled anger. His tone had been cutting, also. Soft, as was usual with the Grand Master, but with a hint of undisguised aggression he'd put there for a reason.

"Kyp has paid for his past mistakes and then some, and I'll thank you to leave the past in the past, if you wouldn't mind."

The Intelligence Director scowled at this but said nothing, instead glancing over at his superior for support. He received none. Kyp inclined his head to the Grand Master in a small show of thanks, though he didn't feel entirely comfortable with having his contest fought for him.

"Master Skywalker," Omas said. "While I whole-heartedly agree that Mr. Scaur was out of line with that comment about Master Durron, he does have a point."

Kyp's ears colored a vivid red at this remark, but he said nothing, deciding to hear the Chief of State out before biting back with a few 'home truths' of his own. Just as he'd done a few seconds ago, Luke came to the rescue, supporting a man who'd been almost like a rival for most of his adult life. Kyp wondered how much of the Jedi Master's apparent 'savior complex' had to do with proving to himself and everyone else on the Council that appointing the rogue Jedi really _had _been a good idea.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say, Cal."

"I'll just say it straight then, shall I? Kyp Durron is an irresponsible man who's made a lot of mistakes in his time, and who will, I'm sure, make a lot more before he's through."

"We've all made mistakes, Cal," came Luke's retort. "And we'll all make many more; no one's perfect, after all, not even you or me."

"That's not the point, and you know it! He's a loose canon, one who will always side with those seemingly breaking orders and going against the grain, simply because he gets a kick out of shunning responsibility! I'm at a loss as to why he's even on the Council, because right now I can't see how you expect him to contribute to anything with meaning."

If Kyp's blood wasn't boiling before, it was simmering past the point of no return now. The minute things had started to get personal, he'd thrown all caution out the window, and was now standing, just like Master Skywalker, his fingers wrapped around themselves so tight they were turning white from the strain.

"Irresponsible, you say? I'll give you kriffing irresponsible, you old codder!" he bellowed, slamming one clenched fist down on the flat of the tabletop.

"Kyp…" It was Luke, but his word of warning got lost somewhere between Dif Scaur's barrage of obscenities and Omas' gasp of indignation. Kyp barrelled on, in any case.

"I would have gladly gone with them, if I'd known what they were up to!" he was saying, shouting the words at the top of his lungs. "I would have organized the whole kriffing thing, if only they'd told me first! Was that what you were looking for? Were you just waiting to hear me admit to that, or were you hoping for something a little more damning?"

"That is ENOUGH!" Cal Omas had pushed his high-backed chair against the far wall, and was now leaning heavily on the edge of the wooden table, his face red and blotchy from the extent of his rage. "Never, in all my years…"

But Kyp didn't hear the rest of what the politician said: he'd already crossed the distance to the exit in three brisk strides, and was wrenching open the brass handle of the door when the man's disgusted response was spat at the stunned group. He'd had it up to the eyeballs with cocky politicians and their black and white view of the galaxy, and quite frankly, they could stick their Jedi Council position up their stiff, prejudiced backsides!

Kyp Durron had had enough!


End file.
